Through Rippling Water
by Sea Mars
Summary: Like a Dalton fanfic I guess. My head canon took on a life of its own, featuring Reed, Shane, Blaine and Kurt... and I quietly want to get some Justin, Charlie Logan, Julian and the Warblers in. I'm just really proud of it and wanted to share it.
1. Broken Glasses

_My name is Sea Mars, and I just try to write things down because otherwise my imagination gets out of control. This is my first fanfic, but I'm still proud of it. This chapter has been reeling around in my head for about a week, but I finally bothered to sit down and write it out._

_I guess its a fanfic of CP Coulter's Dalton, which I love. So far no main characters are actually mine, but I'm about to get one in there :)_

_EDIT ON 10 Oct. 2011: I just reread my draft and yeah there's a few mistakes. So if you didn't understand some parts of it for some super bad grammar, wrong names or even a completely wrong word, it's mostly fixed up now._

**_I do not own Glee or Dalton. _**

_I hope you enjoy..._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE <strong>

**BROKEN GLASSES**

* * *

><p>Loud banging and clashing across the hall broke Blaine out of his reverie. He had been staring at the closing sentence of Kurt's email—<em>all my love, Kurt<em>—for over ten minutes now. He still got butterflies when he read Kurt's name, especially when it was following a word like "love".

A loud grunt actually alerted Blaine to the fact that he could be possibly getting burgled right now, and be sitting here staring at his computer screen like a love-struck idiot. He pushed back from his desk at his bedroom window and walked towards the hallway.

Shane was already leaning against the doorframe of the study, his head cocked to the left and drinking his orange juice.

"Dad… what are you doing?" Shane asked, cautiously. He had half a mind that was imagining mum making him sleep in there for un extended period of time after his performance at Dalton's parent's night.

"Clearing out the study, son. But don't you come help… wouldn't want you to break a nail."

The study was the smallest room in the house, right in the middle, with no windows or comfortable thermostat. The main source of light came from a skylight that the Andersons were fairly sure was not replaced when the house was redone a few years prior. It had slowly become a small museum, holding the elements of the two Anderson brothers' lives as they grew.

It had also become a general junk collection, holding everything that anyone in the house didn't want but also didn't not want. A majority of the room was made up with these haphazardly stacked boxes, thrown in there only when mum wasn't around. Marlene was into the organisation of the study, but once something went in even she wasn't game enough to try and sort it out.

Shane watched as his father lifted up a large box of Blaine's old trophies, and stumbled dropping the box to the floor with a loud clash. If Blaine and his father hadn't reconnected a _bit_ after Blaine's previous life-threatening "ordeal", as his parents referred to it, Shane would have thought his father did it on purpose.

But Barty just looked at the box on the ground, almost shaking. Amidst the trophies and certificates from Blaine's academic and musical achievements, there were also photos of him with various family members and friends.

In that short moment, Shane new that had that ordeal had killed Blaine, it would have killed his family, too.

Shane glanced side long at Blaine who was pulling on a shirt and walking in to the study, with the intention to help his father.

"So why does the study need to be cleaned out?"

Barty looked up sadly at the two boys. "The market presents us with hard times, and this current drop… Rose needs somewhere to send her son for the time being."

Rose, Barty's younger sister, had a husband who made and lost his millions by his inadequate understanding of market shares. Blaine and Shane had never actually met Rose or her son, but from the look on their father's face at this moment, they didn't think they were ready to live with him.

"We just need to get as much stuff into the basement as we can and the rest into your bedrooms."

Shane and Blaine looked stricken at the thought of sharing their space with these boxes of embarrassing moments, posed photographs and awkward teenage phases. Especially the basement, which had been transformed some time ago as a place for the two of them and their friends, having little space for storage and most importantly being able to _hide_ the storage.

But Barty was already back to work at sorting out which boxes needed to go where and didn't notice the boys' silent disagreement.

Blaine, fulfilling his former intentions, bent down and picked up three of the cardboard boxes marked "Shane" in black marker and carried them into the hall. On returning he picked up two plastic boxes which he knew were filled with photographs and scrapbooks and that he did _not_ want any visitors to see, dropping them next to Shane's boxes in the hall.

"Shane?" Barty prompted.

"Uh… No I can't actually. I'm going out with… uh."

Barty got back to his work, his back to the door. "Oh."

Blaine gave his brother a sympathetic shove out the door, almost glad that he could have some time with his father, since they were now on speaking terms.

Shane needed no further encouragement, and grabbing his phone, wallet and Blaine's car keys he loped delicately down the stairs and out the front door, shouting goodbye to the household.

His iPhone buzzed, and the name _Reed Van Kamp_ came across the screen.

_It's cold._

Although this confused him, Shane sniggered to himself. Reed was a rather delicate flower sometimes. He had made it a few more steps when Reed texted him again.

_And windy._

This made Shane laugh aloud, knowing that Reed would probably keep texting him all the negative aspects of his surroundings until he replied or picked him up.

_I can't reply while I'm driving, what if I crash?_

Shane typed a quick reply, before jumping into the driver's seat of his brother's white '85 911 Porche—the one that he and dad had rebuilt a few weeks previously. The engine was small, powerful and quiet and was one of the "bonding exercises" Blaine and his father had agreed on. Barty was amazed at his son's grease-monkey skills, and shocked that his outwardly gay son was willing to get dirty. Besides, Blaine got a free car.

* * *

><p>Reed had been lounging around in California for almost a week now, going from fashion show to fashion show and art gallery to art gallery with his mother. She was attempting to shower him in as much love and adoration as she could, though he could not tell if it was because of his recent near-death experience or because the fashion powress had a gay son.<p>

Tonight, however, she was attending an exclusive lingerie show, one that she thought was not suitable for Reed to attend.

So he invited Shane over.

He had just received Shane's text about not texting him while he was driving. It was true that Shane was known to get a little too excitable about Reed and Reed's safety. Were he to know where Reed was _right now_, would have him speeding to the Hyatt and coming to the rescue.

Yes. It was probably best that Reed waited, at least until he saw Shane pull up and the valet had the car a safe distance from him.

Reed stuck his head over the balcony and laughed at how he felt like Juliet, or even Rapunzel at this moment: trapped on a small balcony, awaiting his knight.

* * *

><p>Blaine had just made his forth trip down to the basement, making this one as quick as possible. Every time he had returned from the basement so far, he was sure his father had been through Blaine's box he dropped before.<p>

Very subtle changes, such as the photo that was on top in his photo pile or which award was facing up created a sneaking suspicion that Barty was repetitively going through Blaine's box.

It wasn't like it was a big deal to Blaine if his father went through his box, after all it had been a free-for-all all these years since being in the study and Barty was present at almost every of those occasions in the box.

Making it to the hallway, he started to move stealthily to the study and trying to feel rather stupid and immature at the same time. He poked his head around to see his father, normally so in control, leaning with his back against another pile of boxes to go into the basement looking at pictures from Blaine's box.

Suddenly Blaine felt like he had walked in on a private moment of his father's thoughts and decided to leave him to it. He was about to step quietly back into the hall to find something to do for a while, but was stopped by his father's voice.

"Pardon?" Blaine asked, before considering that perhaps his father was not talking to him and that his cover was blown.

"You aren't as good at sneaking up on people as Shane." There was a short silence.

"I'm sorry." Blaine said.

"For what?"

"I don't really know. I just feel like I should be sorry about something."

"My father always taught me to only admit you are wrong when you truly are."

Barty flicked over two more photos before a shadow of a smile crossed his face.

"Father, I—"

"When was it that you stopped calling me "dad"? I don't really remember. Was it because of an absence or because… Shane still calls me "dad"."

"Father, it—"

"Not that it really matters, I suppose. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet"." Blaine smiled and went to sit opposite his father. He obviously had something he wanted to impart on his son, and in true Barty fashion, he incorporated Shakespeare into it.

While Barty was collecting his thoughts, Blaine thought about why he had chosen to quote _Romeo and Juliet_: a tale of two forbidden lovers, but are together in death. Someone else—namely Shane—would think that Barty just did it as a in the moment sentence, but Blaine knew that his father hardly ever did anything without thinking it through. Except—

"It's strange, having two gay sons, and those two sons having boyfriends. I always imagined that on a holiday like this you'd bring home a girl who you were seeing, or having to deal with a pregnancy scare because one of you boys screwed up or…" He trailed off.

Blaine realised how often his father had been trailing off in the past half an hour. He usually finished every sentence he ever started, seemingly editing it to perfection on the way from his brain to his mouth.

As he stood up, he put an arm out to Blaine and pulled him up. Barty watched as Blaine automatically flinched away from his father's arm, before taking it and standing too.

_Someone so young, someone so damaged_. Barty had read that somewhere, probably on a slogan shirt or something.

Blaine followed him silently through the kitchen, out the back double French doors, past the alfresco area, skirting the infinity pool and to a small gardening space behind the pool house.

Somewhere the gardeners didn't go.

"This is my garden. Only you know its here. I come here sometimes, when I need time, or escape."

He walked to a dense, large tree. One that was so obvious now that he saw it Blaine wondered how he had _never_ seen it from his upstairs bedroom before. Barty pushed a handful of the weeping branches aside and let Blaine through before following after him.

Under the canopy of the tree it was almost completely hollow. Like a willow from the outside, but more empty and spacious, and almost uncomfortably cool. Blaine could see why his father would come here to escape. Not even the sounds of the road that could only be a hundred metres away could penetrate the dense canopy.

"I also come here when the aircon is getting fixed." Barty said with a chuckle.

Blaine walked up to the trunk. All over it were words, etched into the bark, or bits of paper held onto the bark with tacks; all of his father's thoughts just thrown together, protected only by the canopy of a tree.

He felt like he had just walked into his father's head and started poking around at the personal thoughts and feelings there.

_Blaine's gay_, a fresher, more recent wound on the tree read.

Continuing to browse, Blaine came across an older looking piece of paper reading, _Blaine came home badly beaten._

He looked down at that, glancing slightly over his shoulder. Even Shane said that you could hardly tell that Blaine was hit even once, and as a precaution Blaine had even stayed out for dinner and come home well cleaned up. He didn't realise his father had noticed.

What could definitely be the oldest, largest inscription on the tree there was a crude drawing of two stick figures—one smaller then the other, and slightly fresher—but both holding hands. Underneath it read, _Blaine_ and in slightly newer engraving _Shane_, each name followed by their birth dates.

There were more memories under this canopy then in the whole of the Anderson house combined. But, Blaine realised, not all of these were happy memories and that was what made the tree more special and less like a movie of success like the other boxes in the room.

In the distance they could hear Marlene calling out to Blaine. Barty nodded a little awkwardly to Blaine.

"I won't tell anyone. About the tree, I mean."

Barty just nodded a reply, and started reading though the snippets of paper stapled to some of the leaves. Blaine was about to walk past him and out into the garden again as Barty grabbed his upper arm. He was surprised at how taught the muscle there was and also how trustingly Blaine looked at him with those brown eyes that so mimicked his own.

"I'm sorry." Before pushing the canopy and making a way for him back out into the world.

Blaine stood their aghast for a few seconds before hearings his mother call him again, this time slightly more urgent and bolted swiftly through the foliage for the house.

* * *

><p>Shane stood, knocking repetitively at Reed's door for a whole minute.<p>

He had been waiting for the door to be answered for almost ten minutes now, and people passing him in the hall were giving him odd looks, mainly of curiosity but there was a few of pity as well.

Shane had called Reed's phone a total of twenty-seven times—in true Shane fashion—and finally decided that he wasn't going to not answer. An inch of doubt crept into Shane's mind.

Like a dropped inkbottle, a poisonous idea started from a small place in his head, spreading quickly and sending alarms and urgencies off in his head, until the mess was too hard to clean up.

Every hotel room at the Hyatt had a balcony. But not every hotel room at the Hyatt had a teenage boy occupying it, alone, and who happened to be terribly clumsy. Now he was imagining Reed's tangled form on the sidewalk below, blood oozing from the popped stitches in his head from the blow Adam gave him a few weeks ago, but also from impact. However for some reason, in Shane's nightmarish imagination, everyone on the sidewalk was merely walking past, ignoring the fact that _Hilde Van Kamp_'s son was sprawled on the ground.

"REED! REED VAN KAMP! OPEN UP" Shane screeched, getting another pitied look from a couple walking past. "Please?" He added as an after thought.

It was then that his iPhone lit up and _Reed Van Kamp_ came across the screen. Shane stood there staring at it, listening to the melodic ring tone he set only for Reed whir away. _Should I answer it_? _Or should I make him call me back twenty-six more times_? _Or, maybe twenty-seven_? As he swiped his finger across answer, the phone stopped ringing.

He'd missed his chance. This was onto the second call now, and just because he had been too pathetic and annoyed to pick it up. _He could've been in the shower or bath or toilet or something, after all_.

Shane went to dial Reed again, but Reed had beat him to it. He answered on the first ring this time.

"Reed. Why won't you open the door?" It sounded incredibly windy from wherever Reed was and Shane started to consider if his suspicions of Reed falling off the balcony could potentially occur.

"_Um. Well. Shane. I didn't want to tell you this before in case you freaked out… But I am maybe, kind of, decided to go onto the balcony… and the door closed… and locked me out here._"

There was a silence in which Shane tried his hardest not to laugh.

"_And it's cold!_" Whined Reed.

Shane had to click his iPhone onto mute for about a minute just to calm down and start thinking rationally. _His boyfriend was stuck on a balcony_! _How he was managing to not laugh, he did not know_.

"Reed, why didn't you just ring concierge and get them to come and let you inside?"

"_I didn't put the number in my phone because I didn't exactly expect to need to call them unless it was for room service_."

"Okay, can you please at least sit down for me, as far away from the ledge? I'll go down to concierge and tell them the little situation." Shane was already walking towards the elevator, starting to get anxious at leaving Reed up there with no protection. He wouldn't have minded before except now that he knew.

(AUTHORS NOTE: THAT SENTENCE WAS BADLY WRITTEN BUT IMAGINE YOU ALWAYS THOUGHT "MY HOUSE COULD BURN DOWN", BUT THAT ANXIETY INCREASES WHEN YOU REALISE YOU LEFT THE STRAIGHTENER/TOASTER ETC ON. THAT'S SHANE'S FEELING RIGHT NOW)

The ride down the elevator seemed to take forever. There was only so much paisley wallpaper you could look at before realising that paisley was never a good pattern, especially in red, as if they had tried to be gender neutral or something.

He walked back into the large foyer. There was a rather majestic feel from the large columns of stone and marble and the mahogany desk that covered a whole wall. Opposite the desk was "Le Loungé", a bar that as far as Shane could see served the usual cocktails and drinks, but with the added bonus of macaroons, as bizarre as that combination was.

Shane had half a mind to keep walking out onto the street and look up to make sure that Reed was, in fact, sitting away from the edge of the balcony. He decided that, knowing Reed's coordination, that the smaller boy would most probably manage to fall off the balcony even from the doorway and had best get him inside the hotel room.

He approached the large mahogany desk, where several women and men, all in pant suits, sat and somehow managed to look busy even though there was no one around for them to help.

One of the women looked up as he approached, so he decided to address his problem to her. Her name badge read _Shelly_.

"Hello. My name is Shane Anderson, and my boyfriend Reed locked himself on the balcony."

"And you cannot get in?"

"Afraid not. I live in California, but he is here with his mother… _Hilde Van Kamp_." He felt shameful dropping Reed's mother's name like that, but knew that if Reed were to fall because the lady was too slow to act…

"Oh yes. We have here on file that he does that quite often. I'll come right up and let him inside."

_Does that quite often_… Shane was already thinking up clever taunts to pull at his boyfriend as he followed the concierge into the elevator and waited to reach the floor. It was about now that Shane cursed the Van Kamp's need to be in a room that exceeded a level that, if fallen from, would not allow serious injury.

The concierge was chatting to Shane, just small talk, which made it easier for him to reply: weather, an upcoming band. She was pretty now that he actually looked and stopped fussing over whether Reed would be all right. Her hair wasn't blond like a lot of the girls from California, but a deep brunette, with natural-looking red and chocolate streaks. Her eyes were an icy blue, which suited her almost translucent complexion. She definitely looked like she belonged in Alaska or somewhere less… sunny.

She walked straight to the Van Kamps' suite and opened the door. From the hotel door, you could see straight through the living area of the suite and onto the balcony where Reed was leaning up against the glass door waiting.

Shane smiled, and stopped the concierge from walking any further. He pulled out his phone, took a photo of his helpless figure and texted it to Reed, with a text.

_We tracked the call. It's coming from inside the house._

_When a Stranger Calls_ was the horror movie that the two of them watched with the Warblers before term was let out, and he particularly remembered the look of horror, the tightening grasp on Shane's shirt and the shiver that wracked Reed when those words were said.

Reed's phone buzzed next to him, lighting up the balcony against the sunset. He picked it up, looked at it and whirled around and stood up in a fluid, yet ungraceful movement. He waved at Shane and started talking, before realising there was in fact a glass door between them. Shane exhaled without realising he had even being holding a breath and realised that Reed was safe.

But, in classic Reed style, he managed to lose his footing while standing perfectly still, stumbled and grabbed onto the door handle for support. He looked up sheepishly and motioned that he was okay.

The concierge laughed.

"He must be a handful." She mentioned, and Shane was unsure whether she meant for him, or for his mother.

Shane merely smiled and nodded, "It does get a bit hectic sometimes."

"Oh, I think I have a key for the balcony on this key ring." She crossed over to the balcony door and tried out several keys before the door clicked and she could slide it over.

"Oh, thank you so much! It is absolutely freezing out there!" Reed exclaimed as he stumbled back into the hotel room. "You'd think that California would be warm everywhere!"

Shane, who had sat on the arm of a loveseat laughed at how easily his boyfriend fell for these certain generalisations.

Reed hopped over to his wallet that was sitting on the table and stuffed a fifty into Shelly's hand. She tried to refuse, but Reed had already removed his hand and put them behind his back so that she couldn't try and give the money back.

Shelly thanked him, and Reed walked her to the door.

While Reed was walking to one door, Shane walked to the balcony door and closed it, driving the bolt at the top of the door closed. When he turned Reed was sitting on the arm of the loveseat that Shane had just vacated. His lips were chapped and his face pink from a mixture of sunburn, windburn, cold and embarrassment.

"Is this a habit of yours? Getting stuck on balconies, I mean?" Shane asked, with a brief reference to _Hercules_, the movie Reed insisted on watching after _When a Stranger Calls_ so that he could forget a bit.

"Uh… No I wouldn't say it is."

Shane walked towards Reed, who was still perched on the arm of the chair, but looking down at his feet.

"Oh, really? Because the concierge seems to have it on file that this is a regular occurrence." Shane said, a smirk working its way onto his face.

Reed's face shot up, a look of concern crossing over it, and Shane bent to kiss his boyfriend, placing a hand behind his neck and one behind his back. Reed kissed Shane back just as much, tracing the bottom of his lip with his tongue and wrapping his arms around Shane's neck. If practice makes perfect, they were almost experts at this by now.

Reed started to lean back, pulling Shane on top of him and onto the loveseat, never skipping a beat in their passionate kiss. Shane adjusted his arms, wrapping them around Reed's back and crushing him slightly in efforts to get as close to him as possible.

Reed travelled his hands up into Shane's dark, unruly curls that matched his own, pulling his head closer to him.

As the passion of the moment started to die, and the two regained their senses a bit, Shane started to kiss down Reed's neck and up to the opening of his shirt. Reed was special: he didn't want to push it. So Shane rested his head onto Reed's chest and the two just lay there for a while.

Reed started to play with Shane's hair, parting it and plaiting it and arranging it in many unattractive ways, but they all set Shane's scalp tingling.

The two lay like that for a while, each just happy in each other's company, until Reed's stomach gurgled.

"Hungry?" Shane asked, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. "I guess you probably shouldn't have gotten stuck on that balcony."

Reed glared at him, which only made Shane laugh. Reed pushed him off the loveseat and got up himself, starting to look for the room service menu, ignoring Shane.

Shane started to feel a bit guilty as he watched his boyfriend scour the room for the menu.

"Reed—" he began, but stopped when Reed turned his little head of blond curls at him and glared.

He let him continue searching for a few moments, opening drawers and cupboards all around the television.

"Reed—" he tried again, stopping this time when he realised that he didn't know what he wanted to say.

Reed finally gave up on finding the room service menu, and just sat on the arm chair next to the loveseat rang up the concierge—after all he'd given Shelly _more_ then enough for opening the door—and asked them what flavour ice creams they had.

He shot a questioning look at Shane, and the boy just shrugged. Ice cream was, in his opinion, the best food in the world. This was something that Reed already knew, but he didn't know that Shane was into every flavour.

He ordered a pint of choc-chip cookie dough to go with their chocolate ice cream and then walked over to the mini bar to pull out two cokes, except was stopped on the way when his foot was caught under the leg of the coffee table and he went sprawling onto the floor.

Shane, as was his true form, was in there within seconds of Reed falling, and pulled him up. He checked on his stitches—which were still holding his skull inside his head—and pulled Reed in for a tight hug. He rested his head on the smaller boy's head, before kissing his hair.

"I love you, Van Kamp. You and all your adventures." He pulled Reed even closer still, holding him tighter like a boa constrictor just about to digest his prey.

Reed went to open his mouth but the room service arrived before he could get a word out. Shane opened two bottles of coke and followed Reed into the room with the smaller bed. He already had the movies on demand list on the television in front of them. They both climbed under the covers of Reed's hotel bed and laid their food out on a television tray in front of them. Shane pulled Reed close to him, careful not to spill any of the coke or ice cream onto the pristine bedspread.

They decided on watching _Picture This_ which, while being a chick flick with little original story line was surprisingly good, and the two were happy to watch it again.

Reed tucked his head onto Shane's chest and started to draw circles on his boyfriend's stomach. Shane was already steadily caressing Reed's upper arm, where the muscles were quite tight from his last few months of carrying paintings around at Dalton and then also getting them home. The two were perfectly content to be in each other's company: sitting there, eating and watching crappy movies.

When Ashley Tisdale's character started drinking the juice straight from the "bev bar", Shane lost it into hysterics just like last time.

Reed looked up, apprehensively as Shane struggled to breathe.

"That… That… That is something you would do." Shane managed with heaving laughs.

Reed glared at him, but the way that the smile broke across Shane's face… He found himself trying to hide a smile. Shane ducked his head down to Reed's face and kissed him quickly.

They sat watching the movie again for a few more minutes before Reed realised he forgot something.

He sat up so fast, flicking around and looking so completely shocked, Shane thought that he must've killed someone and forgotten to hide the body. Shane raised an eyebrow at him, gesturing him to go on.

"I forgot! Oh no! How could I forget?" Reed was actually starting to freak out.

Shane tried to calm him. He grabbed his wrists and made him look him in the eyes.

"Reed. Talk. Love, you have to use your words."

"Shane…" His eyebrows crumpled as he realised he had overreacted a _lot_, and in turn freaked Shane out. "I forgot to tell you that I love you too, is all."

Shane's face broke into a wider grin then he had on before. He pulled Reed back into a crushing embrace and turned him to watch the movie.

Shane kissed the top of Reed's head and murmured into his hair.

Reed wasn't quite sure what he said but he thought it sounded like, "If I didn't love you so much, you'd drive me even more insane."

Blaine walked calmly into the house, searching around for his mother who had just called him, continuously, since he went out the back with his dad.

She held out the phone to him, covering the mouthpiece with her dainty thumb.

"It's Kurt." She said, sounding delighted that her sons were with people they loved and who loved them.

Blaine took the phone with a smile and headed up to his room.

"Kurt?" His smile fading when he heard the tone in his boyfriend's voice.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Two:<em>**_ In progress as of 9 Oct. 2011._


	2. The Looking Glass

_Hi, I'm Sea Mars and I have finally created an original character in this story._

_I have also made a tumblr with my name (.com) where you can ask me anything, give me prompts, ideas, generally just talk to me. I get lonely sometimes._

_Oh, and it's pronounced See-ah Mars. Just in case you were wondering why my parents named me after something as vague as an ocean._

_I just really thought I'd say that this chapter is rather long and seemingly doesn't go anywhere much at all. I realised when I had almost finished this chapter that I didn't really have anywhere much for this story to go. I can say that I did sit down and fix that up and jotted heaps of things down, so I hope that by the next chapter it starts getting somewhere really good._

_I have this nack of confusing myself when I write and this normally puts me off writing for a while, but I'm going to battle on for a bit and I'm really sorry if this jumps around heaps. I also only just found out exactly where California, Ohio and Washington are in relation to each other so if I missed any parts that you are like "Well, that isn't near there" it is because I couldn't find it to change it._

**_I do not own Glee or Dalton, but i do own Ivy and Ariella._**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

**THE LOOKING GLASS**

* * *

><p>Being the eldest of the two boys, Blaine was actually capable of talking and pointing when the Andersons moved into the California house, and as such got first choice out of the bedrooms—excluding the master bedroom.<p>

His room had a view over the infinity pool, over the tops of the other mansion's rooftops and finally of the ocean in the horizon. After moving to Dalton a few years previously, and not really needing his desk for anything that involved serious concentration, Blaine had rearranged the vintaged-white furniture in his room, including pushing his neat desk up against the window.

It was also around this time that Blaine found out that houses could hide much more then what people actually believed. In what was probably an architectural fault, when climbing around on the roof of the house, he found that the glass was in fact a metre longer from the outside then the space allowed on the inside. The glass was not centred over the window; instead leaving a space a metre long over the area the Andersons had taken the fireplace's chimney out a year before the discovery.

Intrigued as Blaine usually was when things aren't really as they appear, he studied the window from the inside for sometime before, one day when he was home alone, he levered out the side of the window frame and found himself in a small hide hole that would have been just big enough for a small table, a few cushions and a hunched or sitting person—which was exactly what he had around him at the moment.

He came here to think, and Kurt's words made him _really_ need to think.

Blaine sat, looking out over his view of the ocean and the setting sun, ignoring the colour of the sky changing over the ocean, and tapping the screen of his iPhone in thought.

He was on the complete other side of the country. As far away from Kurt as he could be, almost. Shane was lucky that Reed's mother wanted some time out of New York and that California has some fashion shows and items she'd be interested in.

Even Logan _freaking_ Wright was closer to Kurt in this moment.

Kurt hadn't said anything, but the way he was talking… Blaine shook his head, trying to remove the sound of Kurt's voice from his head: it was laced with doubt. Doubt that perhaps Kurt himself didn't even know he was having, but it was there.

It had been a usual discussion: Blaine told Kurt of his slow reconnection with his father, Kurt told Blaine about being home. There was also general discussion about going back to school and possible songs for the two of them to sing in Warbler practise. The conversation even ended with the usual "I love you" from each of them.

Yet Blaine still couldn't shake his concern about Kurt, even though he would see him soon.

"Blaine, dinner!" His mother called, and Blaine decided it was best to just go down. His father already thought that he being so committed with Kurt at this young age was a bad thing, and Marlene would have told him that Kurt had called.

He walked into the bathroom that adjoined to his and Shane's bedrooms and looked timidly into the mirror.

Blaine was expecting to see puffy eyes, or a sad spark or… something. He didn't. Blaine looked normal. Perhaps his lips were a little redder from where he had been biting them since getting off the phone, and there was a imprint across the right side of his face, from where he'd been resting on a pillow, but nothing that strange.

Dinner was a family affair in the Andersons household. Barty had always pushed rules of dinner onto his two young sons: it was always to be taken at the table, everyone was to be seated and dressed nicely before commencing the serving and whatever food you took from the middle, you had to eat.

He made his way downstairs, and smiled when he saw all the scratches in the stairs' handle. Shane and him used to run up and down it, slide down it… but once Shane broke his arm, Marlene realise the damage the boys' belt buckles and jeans were having on the wood.

They weren't allowed to slide down the balustrade after that.

* * *

><p>Dinner at the Wright household was even stricter then the Andersons.<p>

Even though the Senator's house was large and magnificent, it wasn't hyperbolic like most people would assume. The formal dining room could only seat sixteen people, and wasn't used for everyday eating. That was done in the kitchen, at a table that was separated by a half wall from the kitchen itself.

At the jarrah table in what had been dubbed "the meals area", perched on one of the leather chairs was Ivy.

Senator Wright and his wife Michelle weren't home for dinner for the night. Tonight it was just Logan and Ivy, who was, while being his younger sister, very savvy and didn't put up with Logan's attitude. She almost competed with him to see who had the _most_ attitude at a given time.

Right now she didn't have much to mope about, other then her possibly-no-longer-her-boyfriend still not calling to grovel and apologise to her. Which was why she ignored Logan's mood when he stormed into the room. He slammed a glass onto the bench poured a glass of vitamin water and lent on the counter, fuming.

"What?" Ivy asked, not taking her eyes off her magazine. She was ignorant, and narcissistic and most of the time a down right bitch, but she was sensitive, and could read people like they were a black and white book printed in large print. She could tell that Logan wanted to talk.

"We're out of coffee."

"While being _a_ problem, that isn't _your_ problem."

"Julian took the job."

"You told him to."

"Yeah but he _never_ does anything I tell him. I just expected him to be there for the end of school."

For someone who was never actually at school all that often, Julian himself certainly didn't expect to be at school for the end of the year.

"I'm starting to think that perhaps being out of coffee is actually the bigger problem at the moment. You still have another year, I wouldn't be too stressed about it."

Ivy closed her magazine and walked over to Logan, taking his untouched glass of vitamin water.

"Besides, I heard that movie wasn't going through. Didn't make it past pre-production."

"What? Does Julian know?"

"Logan. I wouldn't _know_ if Julian knows. But I'd assume that the actors would be informed that they didn't have a job though."

Logan pulled a face at her as she walked out of the kitchen with _his_ glass of vitamin water.

It was a confusing situation. For Ivy to have heard the movie wasn't going through, they most likely would've canned it weeks ago. But Julian only accepted the offer today.

_Or that's when he _said_ he accepted it_. Logan thought to himself, pouring himself another glass of vitamin water.

Hit slim silver laptop was still on the kitchen table from where he'd left it yesterday.

He opened it, shining light through the apple on the back and opened a web page.

"Julian Larson" he typed, sniggering at how it must be to actually Google your name and have so many entries some up.

There was nothing on Julian accepting the role in the movie, but on the third page of his search, IMDb had changed the status of the movie from "pre-production" to "out of production until further notice". _Except_, thought Logan, _that could just not have been updated yet_.

_Jules, when are you going on set?_ Logan typed to his not-really-established-but-possibly-his-boyfriend.

His new HTC buzzed, with Julian's reply.

_Thursday_.

Thursday. Three days before they moved back into Dalton.

So he really wasn't going to make it back for the start of school… and most probably the end. The golden trio had to return back to school as a duo.

Logan walked into his room, realising that he much preferred the uniqueness of his room at Dalton compared to this perfectly constructed modern room of white and black. He felt like he was in Hanover. There wasn't even any red… Knave indeed.

Without bothering to turn on the light, he threw himself onto the black spread of the bed, pushing anything that was on the bed onto the floor with some very skilful rolling movements.

He hoped that Ivy wouldn't come in and ask him what to order for dinner, though he knew her well enough to know that she most definitely would. She was more stubborn than he was, and even more of a brat, but in a degrading way.

Even when she did come in to ask what he wanted from the Chinese restaurant, she couldn't wake him. He'd had a hard time—mainly caused by Julian these days—and though Logan and Ivy often teased each other mercilessly, each trying to make the other think they hated the other more, they did love each other.

* * *

><p>Reed awoke before Shane.<p>

Shane's arms were still wrapped around Reed's smaller torso, and had one leg thrown over Reed's legs to hold him close all the way down his body. After the movie had finished, they had watched the stars become brighter in the sky as the sun set further into the ocean and talked.

Reed remembered Shane's careful kisses at the base of his skull, just below his ear and the electric buzz of the skin where Shane's fingers rested. Last night was the night that he definitely knew, _he wanted Shane_.

It amazed Reed that Shane and he hadn't moved much while they were sleeping. Shane hadn't even released Reed from his strong, tight embrace. Shane was holding him almost too tight, but it was comfortable and Reed smiled at the fact that Shane wanted him. Shane had chosen him.

Something stirred in Shane; he exhaled heavily and rolled over onto his back, letting go of Reed. The two boys lay still for a few minutes before Reed started to get agitated lying still like that.

He stood, careful not to move the bed too much and wake Shane, and walked into his en suite bathroom. There was an array of different products that his mother supplied to him—cleansers, moisturises, toners, an exfoliater, scrubs, butters—covering a marble counter that was below a wall-long mirror. Today, however, he just splashed his face in cold water.

It was hard having a body clock that still awakened him at New York time. Even though he had gotten to sleep quite late in California time, he still woke up around eight in New York time, and knew that Shane probably wouldn't be all that happy if he were to wake him so early.

The sun was only just changing the colour of the sky to a soft orange, something he would have enjoyed watching from the balcony had Shane not pushed the bolt up at the top, knowing full well that Reed couldn't reach to open it.

He milled around the hotel room, growing more and more impatient. There was no cookie dough or ice cream left, and the mini bar only had alcohol left since he and Shane had drunk the other bottles of coke last night. He just wanted to get out of this hotel room.

In perhaps a fit of anxiety from his realisation that he was getting stir crazy, Reed decided to wake Shane up. He took an apple from the fruit bowl and walked back to the smaller bedroom, taking a bite. Shane was still lying in the bed, looking so peaceful and at ease that Reed almost felt guilty and selfish for having to wake him up. _Almost_.

Still standing at the doorway, Reed threw the apple so that it hit Shane's head and somehow managed to roll off the bed. Seeing that the evidence was gone, Reed made sure that Shane was starting to awaken, before walking as briskly as was safe to the coffee table and pretend to read a fashion brochure sent for his mother, not really taking in the images themselves.

"Reed?" Shane called out, a tone of alarm in his voice.

"In here."

Shane walked into the living space, his cotton shorts and tight white shirt slightly wet from where their body heat had been accumulating all night.

"What are you doing? Did you wake me up?" Shane asked, bleary eyed.

"No!" Reed answered, a little too quickly. "I've been here reading through this stuff. Still on New York time, you know?" He tried a chuckle, but he had never been very good at lying.

Shane walked over to him.

"I could have sworn something hit me." He produced the apple, but Reed managed to keep some kind of composure.

"That's so weird, where did it come from. Oh my! What if there is someone else in the hotel room?" His voice managing to create mock alarm that convinced even himself. "I've just been here choosing clothes."

"Hmm." Shane said, addressing the brochure and nodding. This was the first time that Reed had actually taken in what brochure he selected. "As cute as you are Van Kamp, I don't know if I'd particularly fancy you in _that_ dress."

Reed swore quietly, knowing his cover was blown.

"If you wanted to wake me, you could've been a bit more creative." He mumbled into Reed's ear, starting to nuzzle his head.

Reed dropped the brochure back onto the coffee table and turned to allow Shane to kiss him. He locked one hand around the younger Anderson's neck, pulling him closer hungrily, the other hand grabbed Shane's shirt and pulled him to lie on the loveseat next to him.

Shane had both of his hands on Reed's waist, pulling his hips closer to him, his lips working together with Reed's. Reed took control for the first time in a while, and started to kiss down Shane's neck, releasing his hold of Shane's hair to use two hands to pull off Shane's shirt and continue his stream of kisses.

Shane lay back, never letting go of Reed, and revelling in the smooth touch of his boyfriend's lips against his skin. He let out a brief moan as Reed kissed his ear.

"I love you, Shane." He murmured into Shane's ear, hardly moving his lips.

Shane ran his hand back up Reed's chest, and rested it on his face. Reed moved his face up so that it was in line with Shane's, and kissed along his jaw. Shane pushed his lips into Reed's hard and hungrily, a tightness forming in his pants. He wanted Reed. He had from the moment he saw him at the Winter Fest almost six months ago.

He did not, however, want Reed on a loveseat, in some random hotel room, when Hilde Van Kamp would most likely walk in soon anyway. Reed seemed to read his mind and slowed the kissing down until it just stopped naturally.

"Breakfast?" Reed asked Shane, realising how his stomach had ruined another moment.

"It's half past five, Reed. We should still be sleeping."

"No. It's past eight thirty in New York. We should be eating."

"Love, okay. This isn't New York. See?" He gestured out the window. "Beach. We're in California."

Reed stared at Shane huffily, knowing that he was right, but not ready to win the argument quite so easily.

"I think everyone should have their own time zone relative to when they want to wake up or sleep or _eat_. It would be called Quantum Time, and everything would be relative to your wake up time. Which would have to be eight o'clock, globally for it to work." Reed hoped that that actually sounded smart, and didn't make him sound like a total idiot.

"I think even gay marriage is a bit before everyone walks around in a world relative to someone else's world."

Reed poked his tongue out at his boyfriend, but really wanted the last word. Whether you were wrong or not, the last word holder was always the winner of the argument.

"Perhaps, but I would be having breakfast by now."

Shane rolled his eyes animatedly and kissed Reed keenly.

"Well, lets get the fashion queen's son some food." He said dramatically, standing and pretending to be Reed's butler. "And some coffee… for me. Since it _is_ five thirty in Shane Quantum Time."

Shane pulled his white shirt back over his head and went to collect his jeans that he'd thrown over a chair in Reed's room. Reed stared after him while collecting his phone and wallet and double-checking he had a room key.

Like every love-struck teenager in the world, Reed could imagine one day sharing an apartment with Shane, and even maybe raising a child with him. He knew how ridiculous it sounded even to him, but he couldn't help but think it.

Shane was special. Willing to get up five hours before he usually does, on half the amount of sleep then usual to go to breakfast with Reed.

While Reed was off in his reverie, Shane was standing in the doorway to the room, Reed staring straight at him but not really seeing him. He had a smirk on his face, being cocky enough to think that Reed was imagining something that was involving him.

Shane knew Reed too well to know that he wasn't wrong.

* * *

><p>Ivy was moping. She prided herself on her ability to mope because it generally got her what she wanted. The Senator dad was a strict man, but always managed to give his little princess what she wanted.<p>

Except for this. She was finally offered a big photo shoot, but the Senator wouldn't let her take it because it was during school. Right now she didn't know if she hated school or her father more, and so decided to mope and try and get around it.

She had been storming around the house all morning since he said no, until Michelle, always the peacekeeper and the voice of reason in the household, told her to go and sit somewhere and stop disturbing Logan—who was still sleeping even though it was well past lunch.

Ivy walked into Logan's room to find her older brother still lying on his bed in his clothes from yesterday, still on top of the covers and still very much asleep. She stood with her dainty hands on her slim hips, thinking of how best to wake him up without him blowing his casket at her.

If one was to look up a beachy model in Google, they would probably see Ivy's picture come up on the first page. She was slim, tall and had toned muscles and arms as she spent most of her life climbing up trees. She told her father that she liked the view from the top of a tree, but really she was going up to smoke the cigarettes her friends and her made—somehow managing to make them less damaging, free of carcinogens and still cut appetites. They had received an A- on their chemistry assignment for their ingenious thinking, which prompted them to continue to make them.

She closed the door quietly behind her and took off her loafers. With a final look at Logan's sleeping form and praying in her head that he wasn't going to kill her when he woke her up she ran at the bed and sprang on top of him.

It was a shame that Logan was not a morning person and did not find this even half as amusing as Ivy did. She sat back on his legs as he rolled over, bleary eyed and trying to make out shapes and colours in the sudden bright world.

"Logan. I'm bored." She said bluntly, in her way of making it sound like she was demanding he fixed her problems right then and there.

"Ivy. Are you joking me? You haven't woken me up since Christmas when you were about seven." He stretched out, only just realising how warm it was in his jeans and sweater and cursing that he didn't strip down before sleeping.

"Yes, well I was bored that Christmas and I am bored now." She said dramatically. "Michelle is busy… Would the famous son of the Senator please escort his lovely sister to some shopping?"

Logan mumbled back into his pillow, but the sound sounded very negative.

"Have you checked your phone? What if Julian called you?"

Logan sighed. He could always rely on his sister's ability to manipulate him. No wonder she always got what she wanted. She was almost as bad as Julian.

"Can I have half an hour, at least?"

"No. You can have fifteen minutes. Coffees on me, clothes on you. See you in a bit then." And with that Ivy rushed from the room so that Logan couldn't deny her request.

He somehow always ended up paying for her shopping. The Senator gave them a monthly allowance to spend at their own will… but once it was gone, it was gone.

Logan rolled himself to one side of his king mattress in an attempt to start waking up while fumbling to retrieve his phone from his pocket. There wasn't a text from Julian… or anyone for that matter.

Rolling out of bed and onto his feet, Logan looked around for something to wear. There was going to be no time for a shower if Ivy was so insistent on leaving in eight minutes. He went to his rather large wardrobe and fished out a grey button up which he left the top few buttons undone on and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Leaving his jeans from yesterday on, he pulled on a pair of loafers, smoothed his hair down as best he could and headed downstairs, meeting Michelle in the entrance hall.

"Logan, love, you're up." Michelle was always so nice to both of the Senator's children.

"Ivy wanted to go shopping and she can be very… persistent."

"Yes, she's been moping around all day. The Brightmans are coming to dinner, so be sure to be home with enough time."

Logan grabbed his wallet and keys for his new Audi convertible off the end table by the stairs. He smiled up at Michelle. She was tolerant of the mood swings of both Wright children and equally as patient with the Senator.

He kissed her goodbye on the cheek and walked out the front door.

Ivy was already sitting in the front passenger seat of his car, waiting.

"You're late."

Logan rolled his eyes to the heavens and wondered what _had_ happened to put her in _such_ a mood.

He pulled out of the long drive, before setting out towards the hidden expensive strip of boutiques that Ivy frequents when she is home from boarding school.

Logan glanced at his little sister, looking narky and coffee-deprived. She could possibly be more caffeine dependent then all the boys in Stuart combined.

"Ivy, what's up?"

"Dad won't let me take the photo shoot. He says that I have to go back to school and stay there this time." She huffed, looking out over the car.

Logan remembered the flare up between Ivy and the Senator that occurred when Ivy skipped out on a week of school to fly to New York for a fashion show there, missing several tests but still managing to keep her nearly-perfect GPA.

"You sound like Julian. "Should I take this?… I don't have time for _this one_…" It's exhausting, Ive."

"If you keep talking to me like that then you will have neither one of us talking to you."

Her words cut through him like a blunt knife. Ever since Adam had forced Julian to tell Logan that he loved him, he hadn't been able to get the idea that Logan had caused that much pain on his best friend. Ivy knew all of this, of course, being there to talk to Logan as much as she could while he was in the hospital. He still hadn't gotten up the courage to talk to Julian about what that made them, and the two carried on pretending like nothing had happened, but the amount that Julian talked to Logan was decreasing daily.

"You need coffee." Logan said, pretending to ignore her cruel statement.

He took her to the nearest, smallest coffee shop and directed her to sit at one of the homely tables in the corner. The coffee shop was traditional, and smelt like brewing coffee and baking cookies almost all day. It was one that two frequented because few people came here, and the people that did come here weren't as interested in the coffee orders of the Senator's two children—which was probably a good thing considering how much caffeine the two had in a sitting.

Logan ordered the coffee—a triple-shot espresso in a large cup with skinny milk on the side for Ivy, and a double-shot cappuccino for himself—and two of the chocolate chip cookies, that were about the size of a spread hand and always so warm and gooey in the middle. It was after he paid for the coffees and went to sit next to Ivy before he realised that _he_ had just paid, and would probably continue paying for the rest of the day.

Ivy noticed this too, and had a wide grin on her face as she realised she had won something she didn't expect to win for the day.

A few minutes later, the barista brought their order over, and then left them in their private corner. They each needed to talk to the other, but didn't know where to start.

"Logan. You should just call Julian and ask him when you are going to talk." Ivy started, hoping to deflect the conversation away from her for as long as possible. But Logan wasn't fooled.

"You should just ask father if you could take the photo shoot as long as your grades don't slip."

The two sat in silence for a few more minutes. Logan watched as Ivy expertly poured the exact amount of milk into her coffee just by looking at the colour.

"How's Eric?"

"I don't know. I heard that his father lost a heap of money in the share market thing… again. He has to go live with his cousins who he is yet to meet. That would be really strange, wouldn't it? Living with strangers, I mean."

"You hear a lot of things, Ivy. How many of them are actually true?"

"I don't know, but if Eric wanted to talk to me, he'd ring me and apologise and he hasn't so he obviously doesn't want to talk."

Logan smiled into his coffee, deciding to not get into an argument with her about whether Eric would call her—after all, he hadn't called Julian in weeks, and he really, _really _wanted to talk to Julian.

* * *

><p>Kurt was lounging around on his bed in Lima, both happy to be home for the short while why Dalton was being fixed from the Adam incident, but also wishing he was already back at Dalton with Blaine and Reed.<p>

There wasn't exactly a whole lot that he could _do_ in Lima, especially since all of his McKinley friends were still in school, as their school hadn't had a raging lunatic actually try and kill rather large portion of the junior class.

Kurt remembered the relief he felt when he heard Blaine come into the art room with Logan to save them all. Even though the Warblers didn't get to sing at Hell Night, and all of Reed's artwork in the building was destroyed, he was glad that what happened that night had happened. It gave him a newer outlook on the people around him.

Finn bounded into the room without knocking, only to receive a red welt on his forehead as Kurt fired a nerf bullet at him.

"KURT! What the—" Finn shouted, looking furious.

"I'm sorry Finn, I forget where I am sometimes. I think I've been at Windsor much too long that defending myself has become a reflex."

"Okay, well thankyou for leaving me with a large red dot on my head. I'm about to take Quinn out and was letting you know that Burt and mum had gone out for dinner as well."

Kurt smiled apologetically at Finn. He remembered the days when he had a little crush on Finn, and was now glad that Finn was straighter then a ballerina's back.

"That's fine, I need to get everything together for Dalton again anyway."

"Kurt. About Dalton. If you need someone to talk to about what happened that night—?"

Kurt cut him off with a hand movement.

"Really Finn, I'm fine with it. Well, at least I am at the moment, just like when you asked when I got home, and at dinner that night, and the other six times since then."

Finn nodded awkwardly at went to move out of the door.

"Thanks, Finn." He said to Finn's retreating back, knowing that Finn would know that he was thanking him for caring, before rolling over on the bed and trying his hardest to forget that night.

He slipped into a haze, where he could see Adam's face, the perfect portrait of malevolence, but convinced he was doing the right thing. He could see the fire that was getting closer and closer to them in the room and the look of shock in Logan's eyes when Julian said "I'm in love with you", and the look of hurt on Julian's face when he realised what he had said wasn't received well. He could see the blood trickling from Reed's head as he slipped in and out of consciousness, and hear the shouts and screams of Charlie and the others trying their hardest to get their friends out…

He broke out of it with a start, sitting up so fast that the blood drained from his head and he started to see black. He shook his head, trying his hardest to get the blood flowing again before getting up.

Not much in his room had changed in the past year. There was an occasional collection of dust around the room in places that Kurt hadn't been near in a while, and some newer photos of his friends at Dalton accompanied the photos of his friends at McKinley that covered a large photo wall. His closet was also packed in a lot tighter, as all the clothes he received from Reed's mother stocked him comfortably.

He walked over to his new MacBook and flicked the lid up. Checking his emails he saw a new email from the Brightman twins.

Kurt opened the email, intrigued as to what the twins would have to tell him in an email. Most people texted him unless it was important—since he didn't have his phone, he'd accidently left back in it dorm at Dalton and never bothered to go back and get. The twins, however, had a uncanny ability to break into other people's houses and wake them up just to say hi, or shoot them with their nerf guns, or even throw them on their jet and take them all somewhere just out of boredom.

_Hello Alice._

_We're attending the Senator's tea party tonight but the Knave still hasn't confessed the Cheshire Cat scenario._

_I think you need to talk to your new friend when he comes back from filming._

To call Julian a "friend" was probably pushing their recent bonding experience, where Julian had somehow opened up and told everything to the boy he didn't even know. Kurt thought that the movie Julian had a spot for wasn't going through…

* * *

><p>Julian smiled his award-winning smile as the casting assistant showed him to his trailer. It was the same one he'd had for the last three seasons of <em>Something Damaged<em> and was glad that he had been invited back for half of the forth season: just long enough for Logan to hopefully forget what Adam had forced out of him.

Walking in, he saw that the show's publicist was already waiting for him, with Ariella, the tall, pale skinned actress he had been working with for the past two years. He smiled at her and pulled the fair-haired girl in for a tight hug.

"Julian, Ariella, the relations committee has decided that we need the two of you to be publically dating. The shows ratings have dropped, and you two play the most controversial characters on the show, so we are hoping that that draws in a lot of interest from the public."

Julian stopped and stared at her.

"Excuse me?" Ariella said, clearly not sure that she had heard the publicist properly.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. We'll need the relationship to come out just before the premiere of the new season, so that will give you a few weeks." She said, before standing up and leaving the trailer.

Julian stared after her, completely aghast. An expression that was matched on Ariella's own face.

"Don't take this the wrong way Jules, but I am quite happy with Conner."

"Ariella, I'm honestly not into you in that way _at all_."almost feeling nauseous of what they may have to do for the cameras. Yes he was an actor, but not _that good an actor_.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Three:<strong> In progress as of 12 Oct. 2011_


	3. Tree Branches

_.com_

_Okay. So I do have a very long list of reasons why this took so long, and I plan to never have this happen again._

_Firstly, I realised that I am at an awkward time where I am trying to fit everyone in together and it is kind of weird and hard and confusing._

_Secondly, these feelings from the first thing are making me resent my writing so I deleted and rewrote the chapter a few times until I was somewhat satisfied with it._

_Thirdly, school ending exams start this week and studying like mad for probably the first time in my life._

_Fourthly (I told you it was long), I feel like I am writing a story that is currently going no where_—because it is going no where. But I'm hoping it will all come together very quickly, very soon in the next chapter. It's just really frustrating because I want them all to have smutty relationships but they aren't ready. We'll get there though :)__

_Read on, my children. This is super short and really quite bad. If you own Atonement, flick to the middle of section one... its the same drawl and slow start as this. I finish exams on November 11, but I hope to have another chapter up before then. Especially because we got this awkward thing out of the way._

**_I do not own Dalton or Glee._**

_Woah, okay shut up Sea... if you are still reading this authors note: welcome to my head._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

**TREE BRANCHES**

* * *

><p>Eric Stockett was sitting in the back of a black town car, being driven up to his mother's brother's Beverly Hills abode. He was nervous. He had never met this family, but his mother insisted that Barty's two sons where around the same age as him, and they were <em>nice<em>.

From the outside, the house looked more homely then large. It didn't stand out as being different from the other houses, but it didn't look as large and as showy as the neighbours' houses.

The black town car that had collected him from the airport started to drive up a long driveway, which circled around at the front door. Marlene and Barty were already standing on the front steps waiting to re-meet their nephew after almost ten years.

Eric got out of the car, swaying slightly on his feet due to jetlag and looked up at the Anderson parents before him. He had the same brown eyes as Blaine and Barty, his pale, pale blond hair undercut. All in all he looked like a model, but Barty new that his sister wasn't one to mess around with things like modelling, dancing or even music, focussing her son on his school work.

Barty came down to shake Eric's hand, and Marlene kissed him on each cheek before going to hold the door open as Eric and Barty carried his luggage over the threshold.

"Sorry, we had to clear out the study for you. The two guest rooms had been redecorated for other things, and we never really thought we'd have a guest so it didn't matter."

Eric followed Barty into the study and put down his luggage. It didn't look like a study at all. There was a large bed pushed into one corner that had a comfortable and warm looking duvet covering the bed. A hanging lamp had also been attached to the roof that gave the room a warm-yellow glow. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a chest of drawers and a desk, which had another lamp on it.

Although the two Anderson parents were trying to make the move far from awkward, Eric felt odd sitting on a bed that wasn't his; in a house that he was unfamiliar with and a family he didn't know. For a period of time that was yet undetermined.

"Well, we'll leave you to unpack. If you need anything just let us know." Barty said with a nod, before being ushered out of the room by Marlene.

Eric sat on his bed, staring at his suitcase. He didn't want to unpack. Once he was unpacked that meant that he had to stay here. Stay here and start a new school mid-week of a mid-semester. Stay here and watch the Anderson brothers go off to Dalton. Stay here and wait for his mother to decide that they could afford for him to be in their house.

He hadn't told Ivy about his family yet. He hadn't told anyone, actually, but he was sure that Ivy had heard somehow. Eric longed to hear her voice, but he didn't want to admit to her that he'd been wrong.

He started to unpack: setting his clothes in the dresser in neat piles, placing his laptop on his desk and his stationery in the desk drawers, he placed his little stuffed bear behind the pillows on his bed before picking up his phone and scrolling through his contacts.

Eric stared at her name for a long time. He could just imagine Ivy being someone who wouldn't pick up the phone just out of spite.

_Calling Ivy Wright_ came across his screen and he put the phone up to his ear, listening only to the dial tone… and then to her voicemail.

He called again, and again and again. Every time he heard her voicemail he became more down heartened.

Eric tossed his phone aside, rolled over onto the bed and fell into a light sleep.

* * *

><p>Ivy could feel her phone vibrating against her leg as she sat at dinner. Across from her Evan and Ethan were talking to Logan about school and Warblers and sports and just about everything else that she didn't particularly care about.<p>

She wanted to answer her phone so much, but she refrained. Answering the phone while they were eating in the formal dining area was the Senator's number one _no_. Ivy couldn't even excuse herself from the table because they weren't even onto the main course.

Michelle and Mrs Brightman were chatting and gossiping, trying to include Ivy as much as they could but Ivy couldn't keep up with the changing names and topics as the two women caught up as much as they could. Not many parents had talked much since the Hell Night experience at Dalton.

The Senator and Mr Brightman were talking about a new jet that the Brightman's company was designing for no other reason then they could.

The main course was set down in front of Ivy, and she knew that by the time she ate half the plate, she would be able to excuse herself to the bathroom without her father or Michelle taking much thought of it.

She picked up her fork and started to make a dent in the large sautéed greens on the side of the plate, being very careful not to let any of the excess soya sauce get onto the lean steak. She looked up as she chewed and watched as Evan and Ethan managed to eat and talk at the same time without looking disgusting or even as if they were simultaneously doing it.

Ivy was exactly halfway through her plate and pushed back from the table, excusing herself. Brushing the flowing black dress she had bought that day for dinner down, she walked out into the hallway and made for the bathroom that was under the stairs.

Logan watched her go, knowing that her phone had been vibrating since before the entrée, and thought it was quite humorous to watch her hand fly to the small hidden pocket on the skirt of her dress, before remembering and letting the phone call go to voicemail.

Ivy locked the door behind her and sat down on the cushioned ottoman in the bathroom and pulled out her phone.

_Eric Stocket — 5 missed calls_

A small smile came across her lips when she saw his name. She didn't really want to be the one to ring him back, but she wanted to hear what he had wanted to say.

So she called him. The phone only rang twice before he picked up.

"_Hey._" He said in a lazy voice that sounded like he'd just woken up.

"Hey, stranger… why'd you call?" She said, prompting his apologies.

"_I just… I needed someone to talk to and—_" there was a call from his end of the line. "_I have to go to dinner, but I'll call you when I'm done. I really want to talk to you._"

She hung up, smiling. Yes, he really wanted to talk to her. Before standing and returning to dinner in a subtly better mood.

* * *

><p>Shane hopped over the threshold of the Anderson house, his hand laced in Reed's, overjoyed that he had agreed to come to dinner. He pushed Reed forward into the house before turning around and shutting the door behind him. Marlene heard them and came rushing to welcome them.<p>

Reed took in Marlene's loving smile and welcoming face as she came forward to embrace both boys. Reed liked Marlene just as much as Marlene liked Reed. They could always talk about fashion, which was something no one else in the household cared much for.

Reed followed Shane in through to the kitchen where they sat at the barstools. Shane helped himself to the basket of pastries, cookies, cakes and fruit that always sat on the Andersons' counter, replenished almost everyday.

"Eric's here, Shane. He came by a few hours ago, but I think he's sleeping right now. He must be so jetlagged coming all the way from the east coast." Marlene had her back turned and was preparing dinner as Shane and Reed exchanged sheepish smiles.

"Well when he comes down or is ready I'll meet him. Is Blaine home?"

"I think so. I haven't seen him all day, but I haven't heard him leave either since you had his car."

Shane was up at the fridge, and pulled out two cokes before going to walk up stairs.

Marlene was busying herself with the dinner so much, that she only realised the boys were gone when she turned to ask them a question. Feeling mildly foolish, she busied herself with crushing the garlic for the pasta sauce, her mind far from the kitchen.

Shane walked with Reed into his room before shutting the door and putting the cokes down on his desk. Reed marvelled at how neat Shane's room was—for someone with such a hectic personality, he'd assume that his room would be the same. But the walls were just white, which contrasted heavily to the dark, mature wooden desk, wardrobe and bed head.

He walked up to a photo of Shane and picked up the frame. It was him and three other boys all pulling exaggerated and dramatic dance moves, all trying to out do the others. Shane wove his hands around Reed's waist and pulled him close from behind.

He kissed the back to Reed's head as Reed melted into his embrace. Reed ran his nails up and down Shane's arms, leaving light pink lines and that feeling of relief that one acquires from itching a mosquito bite.

"I love you Reed Van Kamp." Shane murmured into Reed's head of curls.

Reed tried to turn to face Shane, but Shane was holding him too tightly to move. Reed looked around the rest of Shane's room—with some difficulty as Shane was still holding him tight—and saw…

"_You_ have a PlayStation? I never took you for the type to do anything without physical activity, and yet you have a PlayStation in your _bedroom_?" Reed asked, shocked that his boyfriend would actually find something where you had to sit still for longer then ten minutes entertaining.

"Don't underestimate me, Van Kamp." Shane said as he plopped himself onto the big beanbag in front of a large flat screen and started the PlayStation up.

Reed jumped on top of him, and the two squirmed around for a few minutes until the little beanbag balls allowed them to get comfortable side by side. Shane handed Reed a second remote as the opening sequence for Grand Theft Auto came up on the screen.

While they were waiting for the game to load up to their race, Shane turned his head to look at his boyfriend who was clicking all the buttons experimentally. He leaned in to kiss his neck, which sparked a stream of electricity through Reed distracting him long enough for Shane to already be a little ahead in the game.

Reed laughed mischievously as he realised what had happened.

"I hate you." He said, with a twinkle in his eye that Shane could detect from sitting next to him.

Shane cast his remote away and wrapped his arms around Reed, who hadn't seen his rapid movement. Shane pulled Reed down on top of him and the two fell off the beanbag and onto the floor. They were giggling like five year olds, and continued to play-wrestle until they were called to dinner.

* * *

><p>"I've never been particularly good at being told what to do, you know?"<p>

Julian was pacing, growing more agitated, and repeating nonsensical babble to Ariella. She was perched on a chair in the corner, growing bored with Julian's performance.

"No offence to you, none at all. I just… yeah… can't."

Ariella rolled her eyes, pulled out her Blackberry and made to walk out of the trailer.

"Jules, seriously, we'll _tell_ our other halves the situation then we'll just do it for the few weeks. You're out of here in six weeks anyway and we'll just hold hands in public or some show."

Julian just looked at her, exasperated. _Logan_. _What would he say_?

"You need to relax, Julian." She said, tossing her long almost-white hair back and leaving him in the trailer.

Julian continued pacing around the trailer, regret at coming back starting to loom again. He had been in a pretty similar trailer the whole time, and he started remembering all the old resentments this trailer holds. There was a dent in the side next to his bed of where he had smashed his hand—still holding his phone—when Derek had informed him of a certain countertenor. The light still streamed through that window in the least comforting way, almost turning from sunlight to an artificial glow.

He hadn't told Logan or Derek of this little situation of his. Ariella and him had a week to bring their relationship into the public's attention, which meant that he had just under two weeks to tell Logan about it—God knows that boy doesn't check up on him.

Sighing, he sunk onto a chair and picked his script up. He was just lucky that the director didn't want to do any of his scenes today. Or yesterday. Or the day before.

"Well. This sucks."

* * *

><p>About halfway through his angst-filled teenager walk he decided to take, Blaine realised <em>why<em> he doesn't like exercising.

The walk was established predominantly so that he wasn't in the house when his cousin arrived, and _now_ he realised that he was so far away from home that it would take him so long to walk back. It wasn't that he had a problem with Rose's son, but he was straight. And Barty had always wished his son's straight.

Yes, Blaine was jealous. He was only really just starting to reconnect with his father, and this straight, football-loving, car-building guy just came along and stole all of that away from him.

Except Blaine liked football and cars, a fact he refused to acknowledge when he was mentally abusing Eric.

He kicked a stone as he walked, rounding the circle back up so that he could head back home and change before dinner.

He hated being away from Dalton. He missed the crazy of the Windsors, and Charlie's knack for keeping everyone mostly in check. He missed the Warbler rehearsals. He missed the pranks that were pulled at the Stuarts, even though he acted disapprovingly.

He missed the red and navy uniform, the routine and the busyness of the place.

He missed Kurt.

_Of course you miss your boyfriend. You're such a cliché of a teenager Blaine Anderson_. He told himself again and again.

One would have thought Blaine was really moping around for his boyfriend, but it was heightened by the occurrences at the Anderson household.

That, and he really didn't see what Eric was going to do once Shane and him went back to Dalton, since there was really nothing much for him to do. He knew that Barty had suggested to Rose that he would pay for Eric to attend Dalton, but they were still waiting to hear back from the school.

Seeing his house so close made him slow his steps. The sky was darkening and he wasn't ready to go in and sit there and listen to whatever Eric had to say.

This seething hatred from Blaine surprised him—this tended to be reserved only for when Logan tried to get Kurt—but it radiated with full force towards Eric.

His car was parked in the driveway, which meant that Shane was home. Shane had probably met Eric already and they had become best friends. Blaine was so sure that Shane's enthusiasm and almost overbearing nature would lead to an open conversation, full of embarrassing moments and personal in jokes.

"I should've stayed home." Blaine said quietly to himself, pushing the front door and crossing the threshold.

* * *

><p>Blaine changed into a pair of dark charcoal trousers and a light blue button up. He rolled the sleeves expertly, to lazy to do up the buttons on the cuffs, as he kicked his loafers on from a standing position.<p>

Normally he even attempted to tame his hair slightly, but tonight he just _couldn't_ be bothered.

He just wanted to sleep for a few more days and get back to Dalton.

He rolled his eyes, glanced slyly at the room across the hall from his, and headed down to dinner.

* * *

><p>Reed and Shane were already milling around the dining table, setting plates and cutlery and napkins and other pointless finery that no one ever actually used when they were eating.<p>

Eric was mixing a dressing for the salad, under the scrutiny of Marlene of course.

"Blaine." His father said, patting his back as he walked in just behind his eldest son.

Eric looked up as Blaine was announced, and the eye contact ensued an awkward moment of who was going to introduce themselves first.

"Blaine, honey, this is Eric." Marlene started, gesturing to the boy mixing the dressing of her own recipe.

Blaine waved plastered on his smile as best he could, but his anxiety and mood shone from the whiteness of his teeth, almost blinding everyone with it.

He organised the drinks for them all. That was _his_ job. He found it very therapeutic that every dinner he could expertly pour his father his gin and tonic with a lime quarter, and make his mother a perfect lemon lime and bitters. It was also routine that the coke cans were pulled out and set on the table in the seating places. It was _Blaine's_ routine, and he loved it.

"You really know what you're doing, don't you?" Eric asked admiring the way Blaine splashed a dash of bitters into a glass on top of a handful of ice.

Blaine smiled a real smile.

"They say that practise makes perfect." Blaine replied with a small glint in his eye that the routine put there.

"Yes it does, sweet." His mother cooed, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze. "Come on all of you, to the table."

Blaine turned as everyone took their seats. Suddenly, this was turning into a much more uneventful night.

* * *

><p>Logan's phone buzzed, with a message from Julian. He was lying on his bed, bored out of his mind, and glad that something had come along to distract him.<p>

_Logan. I have to tell you something._

"Why would you text me that Jules, idiot? Just send me the thing." He said aloud, while typing a reply.

_Go on then…_

It didn't take long before his phone buzzed once more.

_I'm in love with you, Logan. But I have to date this girl from work. _

Logan froze in shock, colour sweeping across his face. He couldn't tell whether he was angry or upset or…

_Trust me, this is not ideal. I just… I wanted you to hear it from me not the media._

His eyes were moistening, but once more he couldn't tell whether this was from anger or regret.

_Lo—?_

Regret. He should've made Julian his when he had the chance. He typed a snappy reply, but inside he was dying.

_What the fuck, Jules._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Four:<strong> In progress of 30 Oct. 11_


	4. Frosted Windows

_Sorry that I haven't updated._

_Some stuff happened, and then more stuff happened and it took me a while to remember how it felt to write._

_So I am slowly trying to get back into it._

_With a nice short one._

_Thanks for your patience, and I will try and update next week, seeing how it goes._

* * *

><p>Julian ducked his head and climbed out of the black town car. The driver was already at the trunk of the car and extracting his luggage.<p>

He was back.

The Dalton grounds were darkening and fairly quiet, with only a slight breeze rustling the leaves in the large trees. While he couldn't hear it well, the ruckus and noise coming from Windsor House left much to be desired on how old the boys in that house were. Julian couldn't even imagine how everyone in that house was still as crazy as they were when they went in. Crazier even, perhaps.

He said his thanks to the driver, before the town car pulled back out of the elaborate school gates and leaving Julian alone with his suitcase at the front of the school.

_Run away, Larson. You don't need to be back here._ His brain was screaming at him, but he didn't have the heart to leave… or the transport. Images of Hell Night started flooding back to him as he breathed in the familiar smell of boarding school.

It was an unidentifiable smell, but it was the smell of boarding school. The smell of that night. The smell of the boys and his classes… and Logan.

He pulled his suitcase along behind him, as the setting sun lit up the buildings in a peach light, the shadows a deep purple as they waited for the certain darkness to overwhelm them.

They kept fighting.

Stuart House was, as always, quiet. All the lights were on in the rooms as the boys tried to get some study in before they went down to dinner. Julian walked up the steps dragging his suitcase behind him with five loud clunks before pausing in front of the door.

In true Julian fashion, he was yet to actually announce that he was coming back to Dalton. Everyone had just accepted that the brunette had pulled out his last straw with the whole Adam debacle, and was leaving for good.

Nevertheless, the uniforms and textbooks that he left in his room before leaving a few months ago were yet to be removed. Logan had made it quite clear that Julian's room remained Julian's room until the trio graduated. The rest of Stuart had only nodded and silenced their thoughts about Julian coming back.

The trio had become a duo for the last month, and everyone knew.

Julian exhaled sharply, before fishing around in his pocket for his key card. He cursed the twins every time he had to walk into his house as if it was his hotel room. He pushed the door open, revealing the majestic and old decoration and atmosphere of Stuart House.

Few boys were milling around the hallways, most preferring to reside in their rooms or the common room to study. However, the few that did watched him with curiosity and concern.

Julian turned to close the door behind him, hesitating only slightly as he remembered the night he went to leave before Hell Night and the flowers and blood that covered the steps. Only the boys closest to him would have noticed the shiver that ran down his back.

He smiled his award-winning smile—_never let them know you sweat_—and headed towards the stairs.

He was only halfway across the entrance when he noticed Logan walking down the stairs towards him, his head buried in a thick textbook and his face deep in thought. Julian stopped, stock still, and estimated the time it would take for him to hide behind a large ornamental pot in the corner. _Too long_, he thought, _much too long_.

Logan looked up from his book just as Julian looked back to the blonde prefect. Their eyes locked, and many of the Stuart boys in the hallways looked on curiously.

They knew that whatever was going to go down, and wherever it would occur; they would hear the two hot-headed, stubborn boys shouting it out.

Logan's face showed shock, but his eyes just showed anger… a red, hot anger that was directed at Julian.

"Logan," Julian started, heading towards the tall blonde with his arms open, his suitcase left behind.

Logan just snapped his book shut, turned on his heel and walked back up the stairs, his stomping stopping only as a door slammed at the end of the hall.

Julian bit his lip, eyes downcast, and went to get his suitcase from beside the door.

_Idiot!_

Julian headed along the hall towards the rooms of the trio. He could hear movement behind most of the dorm doors as the boys stretched out and headed down to dinner. Julian considered dinner as something he would definitely be ditching for the night, not that he had much appetite anymore.

His dorm was almost exactly how he'd left it. The bed was still unclothed, his textbooks piled on his desk and his Dalton uniform hanging in his still partly open wardrobe. His blazer was even left slung messily over his chair.

"I didn't think it would take you this long."

Julian spun around to find the source of the voice. In the doorway was Derek, his built arms crossed over his chest as he leaned on the doorframe. Julian just smiled.

"I thought someone would've moved in here or something." Julian replied, pushing his suitcase towards his wardrobe—he'd unpack it later—before sitting on the windowsill.

"Logan wouldn't allow it. The Ariella thing really tore him up, Jules. He fucking needed you when you were gone, and then you—"

"I know, Derek, I know." He couldn't imagine what had happened with Logan that had made Derek so angry with him. "What happened this time?"

Derek just shook his head and walked back into the hallway before continuing on to dinner.

Julian procrastinated. He knew he had to talk to Logan, but he wasn't ready. He unpacked everything, carefully rehanging his uniforms and making sure all his clothes were folded and organised in his drawers. He remade his bed, stretching the charcoal satin sheets flat across the mattress perfectly, only to cover it with the thick white cashmere-wool bland blanket his mother had bought him from Italy. He went as far as moving his textbooks from his desk to his bookshelf, and giving his shiny MacBook Pro its former home on his desk.

He isn't stupid, however. He knew that no matter how much he busied himself or how much he paced, he was going to have to walk out his still-open door and into that of the blonde prefect's.

_Coward!_ Julian scolded himself. He stopped pacing and glanced back out the door again. He hadn't seen Logan walk down to dinner, and knew that his best friend was still in his room. Stuart House was quiet and empty, and Julian started to feel more alone and more scared.

As he walked out of his door, he kicked his chocolate loafers off and padded out in just his jeans and chest-hugging sweater towards Logan.

Julian stood in front of Logan's door for at least ten minutes before he managed to knock timidly on the wood. He remembered a time when he wasn't scared of Logan, when he'd just storm into Logan's room and have it out with him, when Logan didn't know that he loved him, when no one had died. When Julian hadn't pretended to date a co-star.

He knocked again, harder.

The door before him was thrown open in such a way, as if Logan had known he had to be angry with his visitor.

"What do you want Julian?" Logan all but yelled at him.

"We – we need to talk, Lo."

Logan turned and stamped into his room knowing Julian would follow him in.

"Logan, you don't have to be a prim donna about this! Why are you stamping and stomping around like a little girl who just got told she can't have a pony?" Julian started, knowing that the little girl comment was probably too far but not really caring.

"Fuck you Jules! You think you can just tell me you love me and then disappear off to some set for two months and not even speak to me? You think you can do that to people because you're the _Great Julian Larson_?" Logan yelled back, his voice dripping with malice at the last three words.

"How do you think _I_ feel? Have _you_ ever had your creepy stalker force you to tell the person you love how you feel? Have _you_ ever—"

"Of course this is all about _you_, isn't it Julian? It always is! Because you're life is so hard that none of us mere commoners would understand it, would we?"

"_Fuck_ Logan, I—"

"You didn't even _try_ to talk to Derek or I about it, you just run off. You didn't even call; you sent hardly one text to me. What was I supposed to make of that?"

Julian heard the some of the Stuarts returning from dinner behind him. He slammed the door before turning back on Logan.

"_You_ didn't text or call _me_ either Logan! Friendship is a two-way thing; you can't just blame something like this all on me! It's _your_ fault too!" He screamed back, realising that closing the door wasn't going to stop the Stuarts from hearing this go down.

They certainly didn't. They had stopped in the entrance when they heard Julian's voice, and decided that they valued their lives too much to go upstairs. They huddled together in the common room to listen, the television on but muted, listening to the well-overdue war.

"I – I did."

"Asking me when I go on set is _not_ asking me how I am. It's _not_ checking up on me. It's not much of anything really."

"You answered me with _one_ _fucking_ _word_, Julian." They were getting picky now, pathetic and picky, but neither of them wanted to back down first.

"You didn't reply to that _full stop_! You think the whole _world_ revolves around _you_ Logan, but it doesn't! You think it was easy for me after—"

"You think it was easy for _anyone_ here Julian? Everyone lost _something_ that night, not just _you_." Logan's voice broke and he started to calm down. He took a step towards Julian, covering the space between them in that one moment.

Logan pushed himself up against Julian, his hands on either side of the brunette's face. Julian's heart leapt and his breath became short and ragged. Logan was so close. _So_ close. All if would take was for one of them to move a bit closer and—

Julian's thoughts were abruptly cut short.

Logan had pulled Julian into a tight embrace, his arms pinning Julian's arms to his ribs and crushing them. Logan was shaking, and Julian wanted to reach out and hold him back, but Logan's rib-crushing hug wouldn't let him.

Derek had been sitting in the common room with the rest of the boys since they had come back from dinner, listening to the quick, but lethal outburst from each of the boys.

It can't have lasted more then ten minutes for them to strip their souls naked, and the quiet that ensued upstairs was unsettling. None of the boys in the common room wanted to contemplate the nature of this silence.

Upstairs, it wasn't what they were expecting. Whether they were imagining one of the strong-willed boys to have killed the other, or something more occupying in Logan's bed, none of the boys in the common room imagined the two best friends the benefit of something as innocent as a hug.

"Get. Out." Logan whispered, softly into Julian's ear, pushing the actor towards the door slightly.

"No, Logan. I want to talk about this."

Julian was defiant. He walked back towards Logan, who had turned away and headed towards the window. Logan stopped short, not even facing Julian as he spoke.

"Just go, Julian. Go back to your room, go home, go wherever."

Julian didn't move.

"You've never had a problem with leaving before."

This got under Julian's skin. Every time he'd ever left Logan before was because he couldn't sit there and watch something as self-mutilating as Logan fall for someone who wasn't him.

Julian spun around, ripping the door open and slamming it behind him. He traipsed into his room and threw himself onto his bed, messing up the spread that he had so painfully laid out before.

Not bothering to change, he dug his iPhone out of his pocket and plugged in his expensive headphones—the pair that blocked out anything around him. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and letting the music engulf him while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Stuart House was quiet once more, everyone—bar Julian and Logan—were continuing with the studious habits that had been developed since before they arrived at Dalton.

As the night wore on, many of the lights were still creating a checkerboard across the exterior walls of Stuart, well after Windsor and Hanover were plunged into darkness.

* * *

><p>"The darkness can hide many things, Alice—"<p>

"—are you looking for somewhere to hide—"

"—why are you so nervous, Alice—"

"—remember when you first came here and—"

"Alright, stop. Both of you!" Kurt said shrilly.

The two devilish blondes had abducted him on his way back from the kitchen, resulting in him spilling his glass of water down his satin Marc Jacobs pyjama set.

Kurt had been pulled mercilessly into the twins' room and had quickly been caught up in their odd and eccentric metaphorical play. Now they just stood there, their impish grins unsettling.

"What is it that you want, you two? It's past eleven."

"What, can't we just like spending time with you, Alice—"

"—you didn't talk to us _all_ break—"

"—we missed you, aren't we allowed to miss you—"

"—the White Rabbit missed you too—"

"—_so much_, Alice—"

"—so, _so_ much that you should go and make it up to him."

Kurt watched the two of them, trying to keep up as they conversed with him. _It's much too late for this_, he thought to himself.

"We've been back here for a month guys, he doesn't miss me anymore because we're both here, across the hall from each other."

"_Mirror, mirror on the wall—_"

"—_why do only scars remain?_" The twins sung at Kurt with pleading eyes.

"I don't even know that song, but I _do_ know I'm about to fall asleep."

Kurt made to move out of the room, but the twins grabbed him and pulled him out with them, straight to Blaine's room.

"You're lucky Alice, you could have to put up with Shane being in with your boyfriend… that wouldn't be fun, would it?"

"An incestuous threesome, Alice. Is that—"

"Evan! Ethan! _Stop!_" Kurt squealed at them, as they pulled open Blaine's door without knocking and threw him in.

"Have fun, Alice." They said, in perfect synchronisation, before shutting the door behind them and holding it closed.

Kurt turned around to see Blaine sitting on his bed, leaning up against the wall smirking.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter Five: <strong>In Progress 12 Jan. 12_


End file.
